Egret Visits Mud Pond

 We've almost come to expect it, this late-summer visit from a beautiful Common Egret to Mud Pond at Moreau Lake State Park.  And sure enough, there it was, when Sue and I stopped by the pond on Saturday morning.  It never stays long as it rests and feeds on its journey south, but it's quite a treat to watch this elegant, snowy-white bird stalk the shallows of the pond or open wide its huge wings and sail gracefully across the lily-studded surface in search of new feeding sites along the shore.

Larger than the more southerly Snowy Egret, and smaller than the strictly southern coastal Great White Heron, the Common Egret (Casmerodius albus) can be told from either of these other white herons by its glossy-black feet and legs.  We were able to get close enough to this marvelous bird to observe the color of its legs as it slowly stalked along, neck arched and eyes trained on the water below.  Then, plooop!  that long neck darted forward, and the egret enjoyed its breakfast!

Update:  Sorry, but I was mistaken in naming this bird the Common Egret.  I was using my old 1966 copy of Birds of North America as my information source, but in the years since this guide was published, this bird has come to be re-named the Great Egret (Ardea alba).  Thanks, Jeff, for giving us the correct information in your comment to this post.

Another Wonderful Waterway

How much richer my life has become since I got my first Hornbeck super-light solo canoe back in 1992!  At a moment's notice I can pick up my little 12-pound boat and head off to whatever beautiful lake or river might be calling to me, without having to find another person to help me load it on my car or carry it to the water.  When this past Sunday dawned clear and sunny, my only quandary was, which splendid waterway awaits my paddle today?  Recalling its quiet mountain-ringed waters and pine-scented shores and colorful bogmat plants, I didn't have to ponder long before choosing Lens Lake, about 25 miles north of Saratoga, just a few miles west of Stony Creek in Warren County.

Although a few cabins hide along the wooded shoreline, and small motors of 3/4 horsepower or less are allowed on the lake, there wasn't a single other craft to ripple its glassy surface when I pushed off to explore the intricately convoluted shoreline of this Adirondack lake.

One of this lake's most notable features is the presence of acres and acres of floating bogmats, home to multiple species and many colors of sphagnum moss, punctuated by tall-stalked Pitcher Plants (Sarracenia purpurea) and multitudes of fluffy-headed Cottongrass (Eriophorum sp.) waving in the breeze.

Some of the reddest Pitcher Plant leaves I have ever seen push up from these sphagnum mats, their fluid-filled "pitchers" ready to tempt and trap passing insects, which the plant then digests and consumes.

Other species of insect-eating plants ring the edges of the bogmat, including this ruby-red clump of Spatulate Sundew (Drosera intermedia), which also sports a few spikes of White Beak-sedge (Rhynchospora alba), a very common denizen of northern bogs.

The sphagnum species come in several colors, including the gold and red ones covering the hummocks here.

This little hummock was home to some bright-yellow Horned Bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta), as well as the sundew and sedge.

Much tinier yellow flowers, called Slender Yellow-eyed Grass (Xyris torta), were thriving on this small hummock.

Here's a closer look at the flower of Slender Yellow-eyed Grass, which grows on a twisted stalk.

When I first set out to explore the lake around noon, the abundant plants of Marsh St. Johnswort (Triadenum virginicum) still held their ruby-red buds tightly closed.

But by the time I headed back toward the launching site in late afternoon, those buds had opened to reveal the satiny-pink flowers within.

Marsh St. Johnswort is a very common plant of wetlands, but because its buds open for only a short few hours each afternoon, I always feel blessed when I see its pretty blooms.  Just as I feel really blessed to have such a wonderful waterway as Lens Lake so available to me and my little canoe.

Mother Nature's Riverside Garden

It's August, the season for riverbank flowers to come into their fullest glory.  Friday afternoon found me slipping slowly along the banks of the Hudson River below the Spier Falls Dam, delighting in the reflections of mountains and forest, their cool green serenity punctuated by the brilliance of late-summer blooms.

Every shoreline presented a garden of various textures and colors, including many (like the tiny yellow Golden Pert) that happily keep on blooming even when the water rises among the rocks where they bloom.

Tall stalks of Green-headed Coneflower shine out against the dark forest behind.

The Cardinal Flowers blaze like flaming torches, even amid the deepest shade.

In quiet backwaters, the still water holds the blooms of Cardinal Flower and Pickerelweed in perfect reflection.

Soon, the sunny yellow blooms of Helenium will add their color to the mix, and even now, occasional plants have already burst into brilliant bloom.

Mudflats and shallows are dotted now with the pure-white flowers of various Arrowheads holding their rosy buds above the already opened blooms.

Narrow-leaved Gentians, the first of the gentians to bloom, lean over the banks, holding their vivid royal-blue blooms to the light.

On islands dense with dogwood and blueberry shrubs, the brilliant pink blooms of Joe-Pye Weed hold their heads high, sharing their space with greenish-white Boneset.

Here was a real surprise:  One still-blooming Smaller Purple-fringed Orchis hiding among the riverbank greenery.  I have never found this orchid blooming so late in summer, but then, this summer has been a bit cooler than usual, so perhaps this flower has lingered longer than it usually does.  I was delighted to see it.

I wasn't the only one enjoying this beautiful river today.  How I wish I could reassure the Great Blue Heron that I mean him no harm, so that my presence would not frighten him at every bend of the river. But at least he let me get this close before spreading those giant wings and lifting off to slowly fly away.

Sunday on the River With Sue

I had planned to be up on Whiteface Mountain this weekend, but vision problems that would make it hard to find my way around unfamiliar areas kept me home, regretting my chance to explore the alpine flora on top of that Adirondack high peak.  But I didn't feel sorry for myself for long, once my friend Sue and I launched our boats on the quiet backwater above the Glens Falls dam today.  Here is familiar territory I know very well, but I never grow tired of its loveliness and abundance of fascinating riparian flora .

The weather was even more pleasant than we had expected it to be, with bright sunshine and calm winds that made paddling a dream, and which also enticed many turtles to emerge from the depths to bask on fallen logs.

That small yellow flower lifting its head above the water in the foreground of the photo above is one of the rarities that thrive in this quiet backwater.  This is Small Floating Bladderwort (Utricularia radiata), listed as a "Threatened" plant in the state but very happily at home in this stretch of the Hudson River.  This area above the Glens Falls Dam is where I first saw and identified it several years ago, but I have since found it as far upstream as the catchment between the Spier Falls and Sherman Island dams at Moreau.  Since it floats freely along on those inflated "pontoons,"  it is free to move wherever the current carries it, so who knows where else it may be found?

As with all bladderworts, U. radiata possesses underwater structures containing tiny bladders capable of sucking in and digesting minute organisms that live in the water.  These structures are visible surrounding the plant in the photo above.



These quiet waters are also home to another plant considered to be rare in New York, the Water Marigold (Bidens beckii).  Although it was not yet bearing its pretty yellow flowers, we could see its emergent leaves protruding above the water along one shore.  Like many plants that grow in water, its underwater leaves appear quite different from its emergent ones.

We were delighted to find the ubiquitous Water Shield (Brasenia schreberi) blooming today, holding its pinkish flowers well above its oval floating leaves.  This flower has no petals, but its shiny sepals curl back very prettily.  Although the flowers contain both staminate and pistillate parts, only one sex ripens at a time.  In the photo below, the stamens have developed pollen-bearing anthers, while the pistillate parts in the center remain closed and unreceptive.

After the anthers have shed their pollen, the stem will retract the flower underwater until the pistillate parts are ripe, and then the flower will re-emerge with pistils arrayed and ready to receive pollen from other plants, as demonstrated by the flower in the photo below.

Water Celery (Vallisneria americana) is another water plant with an interesting sex life.  We could see the female flowers floating on the surface of the water today, but I doubt we will ever see the male flowers, they are so small.  The female flowers are held on curly stems that relax or retract in order that the flowers sit exactly within a dimple at the surface.  The male flowers form at the base of the plant at the bottom of the river, rising to the surface when ripe and floating along until they fall into the female flower and accomplish pollination.  After pollination, the stem retracts sharply and deposits the fertilized flower in the mud, where it will produce a new plant.

Fragrant Water Lilies (Nymphaea odorata) will also retract below the water's surface as soon as they are pollinated.   This is why we never see any Water Lilies that are shriveled or brown, but always perfectly gorgeous, as were those that were floating on the water today.

Since Sue and I discovered a large population of Wild Senna (Senna hebecarpa) here on a backwater island, we always look for it every year.  We thought we might be a little late to catch it in bloom today, but no, there were still several plants with large showy clusters of bright-yellow blooms.

After leisurely exploring the quiet backwater, Sue and I headed out to the open river to paddle upstream toward steep shale cliffs that lie just below the Feeder Dam.  On our way, we found this delightful little garden of mini-plants tucked into some fallen logs.  On the left is Dwarf St. Johnswort (Hypericum mutilum), on the right is Golden Pert (Gratiola aurea), and barely visible behind is Small Bedstraw (Galium trifidum).

The north-facing shale cliffs rise very steeply from the water's edge, and they are continually dampened by springs dripping down from above. creating a dark and cool environment for a number of interesting plants to grow.

The presence of Bulblet Fern (Cystopteris bulbifera) indicates the presence of lime in these cliffs, for this is a fern that only grows on calcareous substrates.  Their long curvaceous fronds make for a lovely display, especially when flowering shrubs of Spikenard (Aralia racemosa) are added to the mix.

The dainty-flowered Kalm's Lobelia (Lobelia kalmii) clings to these vertical cliffs, and the plants almost always seem to be anchored by underlying patches of liverwort.

Here's a closer look at those lovely lobelias, backed by a cluster of Grass-of-Parnassus leaves.

As these budding stalks reveal, it won't be long until these cliffs are covered with the beautiful white blooms of Grass-of-Parnassus (Parnassia glauca).

A number of Mountain Maples (Acer spicatum) grow out of these cliffs, and today they were adorned by clusters of rosy-winged seeds.

Several sections of the cliffs are splashed with bright-orange patches of Trentepohlia aurea, a green alga that contains a chemical that masks its chlorophyll.

Here's a closer look at that alga, the better to see its rather furry texture.

I was intrigued by the sight of many tiny tan balls dangling on filaments attached to the side of the cliffs.  I do believe these are the egg cases of a spider, but I do not know which species.  They were just one more fascinating find on this beautiful day for paddling the river.

Update:  I KNEW those egg sacs looked familiar, for I had posted a photo of them before and had sent my photo off to BugGuide.net and received an answer promptly.  This is indeed the egg sac of a spider, a ray spider called Theridiosoma gemmosum.  Ray spiders are known for creating cone-shaped webs.

The River in Bloom

This chilly morning sounded a warning:  Summer is speeding by! That was all the spur I needed to grab my canoe on this sweet sunny day and head to the Hudson, especially now as the high-season flowers are turning the riverbanks into Mother Nature's spectacular garden.  Time to go see what's in bloom.

My favorite stretch of the Hudson lies between the Spier Falls and Sherman Island dams, where the river runs back into quiet bays sheltered from the wind.  I've been paddling these waters for more than 20 years, marveling at the wonderful variety of native wildflowers that ornament these banks, thriving despite frequent flooding as water levels rise and fall with dam operations.

Over all these years, I've developed a sense of stewardship toward these native flowers, and I've pulled every stalk of Purple Loosestrife I could find, hoping to quell the spread of this very invasive alien species along these shores.  By now, I hardly ever see it here, but today I thought I spied one of its tall purple spikes at the back of a bay, and I hurriedly paddled over to pull it out.  But as I drew near, my determination turned to delight, for instead of Purple Loosestrife, here was a single spire of the beautiful Smaller Purple Fringed Orchis (Platanthera psycodes).  I had thought I had missed its bloom time this year, but here was one lovely late-bloomer!

Orchids are fickle bloomers, so I can never count on finding a Purple Fringed Orchid at the same site or time each year, and some years I fail to find any at all.  But I certainly CAN count on finding Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis) along these banks each year, and I was delighted to see that this gorgeous flower's season has just begun.

Individual spires of this super-saturated red flower blaze like beacons along the shore now, but it won't be long before masses of them crowd the banks in spectacular display.

The flowers of Arrow Arum (Peltranda virginica) exist at the opposite end of the spectrum of spectacular, although the foliage clumps possess their own kind of beauty.  And the flowers are quite interesting, if you can find them.

I had to search among the leaf stalks to find the Arum's flower, which consists of a cream-colored spadix tucked within a green spathe with ruffled edges.

Sharing the edges of this watery habitat are the pretty blue blooms of Monkey Flower (Mimulus ringens).

Golden Pert (Gratiola aurea) not only doesn't mind getting its feet wet, it doesn't mind going in over its head, either.  The water level in the river was relatively low this afternoon, but if it were to rise at a later time to completely cover this rock-wreathing clump, the little yellow trumpet-shaped flowers would just keep on blooming underwater.

Bright sunlight illuminates tall stalks of purple Pickerelweed (Pontederia cordata) against the dark shade of the forest.

It amazes me how every year the landscape of this marshy area undergoes change, although the individual flowers remain the same.  Looking through my photo files, I found a shot from four years ago that shows a parade of Steeplebush spires (Spiraea tomentosa) populating the very same rock where the Pickerelweed blooms this year.  There was Steeplebush blooming in this marsh today, but not in as spectacular array as four years ago.  What a lucky event that was, with the water, the light, and the flowers all caught at the perfect moment.  Sometimes the beauty of this place just takes my breath away!

Swamp Milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) was adding its own charms to the landscape today, with its vivid-pink bicolored blooms.

I often search among milkweed to see if any unfortunate insects might need to be freed from the florets' legtraps, but this Long-horned flower Beetle was too far gone for my help to avail.  And besides, spiders need to eat, too.

Another critter surprise was this colorful Northern Water Snake, which dived underwater and lay very still, hoping (I'm guessing) that maybe I wouldn't see it.  I have never seen such a brightly colored pattern on this snake before.  They often look just dark brown.  I had to google images of this species to be sure it was a Northern Water Snake.

Ultimately, I DID find some Purple Loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria), but just one plant.  And it wasn't there very long.  I often wish I could leave it to add its beauty to the mix of marvelous wildflowers, but I'm afraid its invasive habit could eventually drive all other flowers out.

I'm wondering if Purple Loosestrife might be evolving to mind its manners.  On a visit to Woods Hollow Nature Preserve near Ballston Spa yesterday, I found it joining a mix of flowers blooming in a wet meadow, and it wasn't dominating the site.  There were healthy plants of Tall Goldenrod and Boneset among this mix as well, and when these species open their buds they will add their own blooms to the riot of colors.  I've been observing this meadow for several years, and the native plants do seem to be holding their own to keep the alien loosestrife in balance.

Another encouraging sign was the presence of these Japanese Beetles chowing down on the loosestrife.  One alien invader has found another!